You are Nothing without Me
by Airgid-chead
Summary: Seimei has never had problems reading other people. So why is it so difficult to understand Nisei?


Disclaimer: I do not own _Loveless_.

**You are Nothing without Me**

Aoyagi Seimei had always regarded himself as a thoughtful person gifted with an unmatchable insight, instantly seeing through any person he was dealing with. It had been this way since he could remember, with his parents, brother, teachers, classmates. He had no problems playing them, saying what they expected to hear, showing the affection they expected to get. There had never been any trouble with Agatsuma Soubi, a blank fighter he'd given his name to. It had been refreshing to finally let the mask slip and start being himself, probably for the first time in his life. And, really, there was nothing complicated with Soubi, who simply accepted things as they were and remained neutral but yet completely devoted. Yes, Aoyagi Seimei was a master of reading human animals.

However, a certain animal stubbornly refused to be read. Seimei didn't consider it as a conscious action on its part but it still unnerved him to no end. It was his biggest failure, that inability to solve the mystery that was Akame Nisei.

He would often catch himself staring at the fighter, trying to put the pieces together, creating a mental map of the other boy. Just like he was doing it right now from where he was sitting at a small table near window, placed here at his request, even though Nisei had vehemently disagreed, claiming it didn't match the style of the room. Seimei had made him see reason with few well-placed slaps and cruel words. It would never cease to surprise him how his fighter would try to avoid beatings at all costs, apologizing the moment he saw Seimei rising a hand to strike him.

Seimei was growing displeased with Nisei with every passing minute. Since the fighter had come back from college several hours ago, he'd been occupying a settee, moving restlessly, stretching, constantly changing positions. At some point he'd turned the TV on and got bored with jumping the channels after finding a programme about humanoids from the past millennia. Then, he'd got a fashion magazine from his bag, soon followed by his mp3 player and mobile.

After yet another turn on the settee Seimei had had enough.

- Come here.

No reaction. Infuriating, but not at all unexpected considering the cans.

Seimei stood up sighing and turned off the TV. Then, he whacked Nisei on the head. The fighter jumped, startled and hurt, instantly getting rid of the mp3 player and looking at Seimei in that weird way of his, as if he didn't actually understand why he was being reprimanded.

- You know, I've been watching this – he pointed to the TV with his unnaturally long finger.

- Too bad I called you and you didn't listen – Nisei looked down – And, seriously, what's the point of watching something you don't understand anyway?

The smaller boy nodded and Seimei rolled his eyes – what was that supposed to mean in his fighter's 'language'?

- Come, I want to play chess – Seimei walked back to the table and put the chess board on it. Nisei followed obediently, unconsciously massaging the place he'd been hit earlier.

- Do you know the rules?

- I'm not sure. I used to play it with my father when I was, uhm, little, but it's been a long time ago... – Nisei smiled cautiously at his sacrifice – Wouldn't you rather we do something different? Chess is boring, we could go for a walk or something, that elderly lady from below has promised me cookies the other day, after I helped her with groceries, maybe we'll meet her...

Seimei eyed Nisei with disgust, causing him to duck his head.

- And what will you do with the lady, you sick animal? Don't ever get near her, I don't want you to get us into trouble.

Nisei actually had the nerve to reply to that.

- How can that get us in trouble? Really, Seimei, groceries for cookies, it's a good bargain...

- Shut up – he leaned to smack Nisei up his head and the fighter was fast enough to hid his face, the hit landing somewhere near his ear – We have cookies in the kitchen, you've bought enough of that sweet trash to last a lifetime on it.

- It's not the same when you buy it yourself, it's better when someone gives you it and...

- Shut. Up. You. Idiot – spat Seimei – We're playing chess. I don't want to hear a word from you while I'm explaining the rules to you, do your best and try to memorise – actually, Seimei wondered if he wasn't asking for too much. Nevertheless, he started telling how the figures moved, what was the main objective of the players and he found Nisei nodding to his words.

- Alright, so, once again, this figure is... – Seimei held a queen on his palm. He noticed his fighter having trouble seeing the difference between the queen and the king.

- It's la reina – Nisei smiled, then realised he'd used the wrong word – I mean, the queen...

- Really, can you be a worse failure? – Seimei sneered – You're a fighter, and you can't phrase what you want to say.

- I'm sorry. They're slips, I try to control it...

- Slips? You'll get us killed one day – Nisei bit his lip – You can't make up words.

Nisei opened his mouth to defend himself and say that he didn't create his own words, but Seimei interrupted him, taking a book from a window still and putting it on the table.

- Care to enlighten me what's this? – he motioned to the title, 'Japanese grammar'.

- A book.

- No shit. Why would a fighter need a grammar book?

- To study... – came a quiet reply.

- To study? You mean you have problems with Japanese grammar? Aren't you supposed to wield words like swords? – Seimei's voice was frighteningly calm.

_Don't panic, don't panic, don't panic... __How can I not panic? A lunatic, he'll say in a second, if your mind cannot grasp the concept of being a fighter you're useless... He'll say it once more... Every time he says it, I believe him more and more... Useless, worthless, a psycho... Seimei, I try... Why won't you ever hug me? I try, but the words feel so foreign on my tongue... It's difficult to find the right ones, when you look so angry..._

- I'm sorry, I'm really sorry – he shuddered, pulling up his knees and wrapping his thin arms around them, hugging himself. He'd wanted to explain to Seimei, but he was so afraid he'd get beaten again – I'm sorry...

- You'd better be. Thank gods I still have Soubi, otherwise I'd have to drag an insane fighter to battles with me – his voice was thick with disgust.

_Insane... Insane... Haha... You're a psycho, Akame... __A maniac… Should have be locked up a long time ago... An insane lunatic... You don't really deserve Seimei, no matter the facade you try to keep, you'll never learn, never understand... With your cracked mind... _

He could feel his breathing getting erratic, laboured. He tried to grasp Seimei's hand, only to have his own smacked away. He whimpered. _He'll beat me again._

- I'm sorry, por favor, I'm so sorry, lo siento... – he didn't think Seimei would understand him, his speech choked with distress.

- Get out of my sight, you wacko, you make me sick – Seimei didn't even touch him, just showed him the door to his bedroom. Not without some difficulties, Nisei managed to make his body cooperate with his mind – _warped mind, haha_ – and dragged himself to his room.

- I think I'll consider Ritsu's offer once more, to finally get rid of you, you'll probably attack me someday – he heard, before Seimei shut the door at his face.

Nisei slid to the floor, in a pitiful heap, cradling his head in his arms, sobbing violently.

_To finally get rid of you... Oh yes, put you to sleep like a rabid dog you are... But, it's not my fault the language's difficult... Not your fault? Yours, for having a lacking mind... For not being perfect like Soubi... For not liking pain... But, it hurts so much... For not using words like a fighter should... I could use Spanish... No, you cretin, you use Japanese, Seimei's Japanese, you're in Japan... I'm sorry for not registering some things... Not remembering... Not... understanding... He called you a wacko... Hah... Wacko, wacko, wacko..._

Nisei whimpered, curling into a tight ball on the floor. He knew the voices weren't going to leave him, the persistent choir would remain present... Till... Till he'd be terminated? He didn't want to die, not like that... He, he could die in a battle, protecting Seimei... _Seimei would never let a wacko protect him, he has Soubi, perfect Soubi... _It's going to be painful, being killed in the Academy, no? He smiled slightly, he probably wouldn't last breaking the bond with Seimei, dying quietly from mental anguish and broken heart... _Tengo un corazón? Seimei diga no, pero __lo__ duele mucho... __Me duelo... Tu rompes mi corazón, Seimei... _Nisei needed Seimei to put the pieces of himself together... No, he needed gentle hands, but who would ever touch him gently, if not his sacrifice? But Seimei didn't want to touch an animal like him...

Suddenly, a sound of glass breaking could be heard, followed by Seimei's muted cry, that sent Nisei scrambling to his feet and out of the bedroom. He could feel Seimei in the kitchen, hurt, not much, but hurt nevertheless and soon stood in the kitchen door wiping the tears in his eyes to see the damage clearly.

Seimei was leaning on a cupboard, blood flowing from a gash on his forehead down his face, soaking a collar of his shirt, tattered vase all over the floor at his feet. He was unsuccessfully trying to stop the blood with his sleeve.

After the first shock of seeing Seimei in this state passed, Nisei dashed to his side, gently seeking to pry his hand from the wound.

-Let me see it, please – he nudged softly – There may be some of the glass still in the injury – Seimei looked at him, letting his fighter handle him, too dazed to protest at being touched by a madman – Ok, now, turn to the lamp, por favor, I need some light – Nisei smiled encouragingly, steering Seimei – We need to make sure it's clean before we can bandage it...

- Aw, it fucking hurts! – Seimei slapped Nisei's hand away when he got near his forehead.

- I'm yet to touch it, you know! – Nisei pushed against his sacrifice – Do you want to have glass left inside, only to be retirado quirúrgicamente?

- To be what? – Seimei huffed, wriggling in his grasp irritated.

- To be taken out by a doctor, with a scalpel – came Nisei's equally irritated response. He'd be damned if he let Seimei ridicule him at that moment – 'Quirúrgicamente' is when you have an operation at a hospital with cutting your flesh by special doctors – cirujanos, and all – Nisei carried on, getting a close look at Seimei's gash.

- You mean 'surgically'? Why would you call it this way though? – his sacrifice winced.

- Because 'quirúrgicamente' is Spanish for 'surgically', and 'surgically' isn't a common word, therefore not easy to remember – Nisei was so absorbed in making sure Seimei was alright, that he didn't even notice he was saying things he'd been afraid to voice since he'd met the cat-eared boy – I think it's clear, I'll get bandages now – Seimei turned around only to see his fighter's back disappearing in the hall.

- Why would you use Spanish words? – when Nisei returned, he found Seimei sitting on a chair, observing him keenly.

- I grew up in Barcelona, my father used to be a consul there. Is it alright to put that on you now? – he showed a bottle of hydrogen peroxide.

- Yes, but do it quickly – Seimei's ears flattened against his head – Don't hurt me – he added sternly.

- You've already done quite a job yourself – Nisei grinned and Seimei had to fight an urge to smile – No need for my assistance with that. By the way, how did you manage to break it? As far as I remember, it was standing peacefully in the middle of the cupboard's top.

- Ouch, don't use so much of it... – Seimei tried to shuffle Nisei off, to no avail.

- It doesn't matter how much I use, it hurts all the same, I'd know – the fighter mused. Seimei felt a weird pang in his heart, but what was it?

- Now, how do I bandage you and not make you send people running screaming, taking you for una momia? – Nisei chuckled, eyeing the wounded head.

- Could you use words I understand? – Seimei didn't actually sound angry, just amused.

- Uhm, a bandaged body, like los faraónes, kings, in Ancient Egypt – Nisei provided dutifully.

- A mummy. Don't you dare make me one.

- Never, I wouldn't get to admire Seimei's beautiful features then – Nisei winked, leaving the other speechless.

- Don't be silly. Rather than that, tell me more about your Spanish – he ordered.

- Mmm... – Nisei took the first try at covering the wound – I was being cute, not silly. Anyway, as I've said, my father used to be a consul in Barcelona for several years and ended up marrying a Spanish dona. They had two sons, little me and my older brother – he shook the bandages off Seimei's forehead, and started wrapping again.

Seimei nodded mentally, that made sense. After all, the very first thing he'd noticed about his fighter upon meeting him had been his distinctively non-Japanese traits.

- My native language's Spanish – Nisei continued – Father didn't feel the need to teach me his language until he got a position in the government when I was fifteen.

- You've been only learning Japanese for two years? – Seimei was surprised – You're good – he caught himself praising the fighter. That wound was really getting to him.

-So I've been told – Nisei tried yet another angle – But I do realise I'm far from perfect, though. I guess it's because the languages have almost nothing in common – he furrowed his brows – I've learnt to think in a different pattern, like, you know, every language has its own melody and way of placing words, and putting them into sentences, and, in my mind, I still do it in the Spanish way, only to translate it into Japanese. It's not easy, I get confused about the order of phrases and all – he said on one breath. Now, would Seimei deem him useless? He suddenly got the idea it would be incredibly stupid on his sacrifice's part.

- It's interesting. But bothersome. How will you fight for me? – Seimei sounded cold again.

- Come on, Seimei! Have some faith in me – Nisei exclaimed, taking the bandage off – Now, I know how to put it! It's growing on me... I'll be the best fighter you can get.

- I somehow doubt it.

- Really? Just how many fighters in Japan speak Spanish, or French for that matter? Fluently – Seimei glanced up at the 'adult'. He seemed to have a dark aura suddenly surrounding him.

- You want to... – it dawned on him.

- Seimei, you'll be invincible with a fighter who understands opponents' spells, but himself casts the ones incomprehensible for an enemy. You cannot twist words you don't know. They won't even realise what's hit them – Nisei smiled sweetly – All done!

Seimei didn't let it show how surprised he was at the fighter's logic, but he was thrilled. It was unimaginable, fighting in a way Nisei proposed, but it was true, no one would be able to beat them. Only...

- Parlez-vous français? – Seimei remembered Nisei mentioning it at some point and decided to check him. He used to take classes himself.

- Oui Monsieur, bien sûr. We moved to Paris when I was about eleven, after the ambassador had died there. Father got promoted and I had to pick up French. You see? How can I learn Japanese quickly if I know totally different languages? – Nisei smiled once more.

- It can be useful indeed. Something else I should be aware of? – he raised an eyebrow.

- Only that I also speak English, as I used to have English tutors, and Russian, 'cause it's helpful while you download illegally from Russian servers. And that you look as if you've been hit by a truck.

- What! – Seimei jumped to his feet, grabbing a mirror standing on a table – What have you done? It's a light injury and you put more bandages on it than on a wound caused by a bomb.

- Well, I've never taken a first-aid course, in fact, I used to faint whenever I saw blood when I was younger – Nisei shrugged – Cheer up, it's wrapped nicely and doesn't let the blood soak through. You'll probably be able to take it off tomorrow's evening.

- My mother will get a heart attack if I come home like this and my brother will definitely freak out – Seimei could already see Ritsuka's petrified eyes.

- Then stay the night. You can call them and say you're staying at a friend's place.

- I never do that. Besides, I promised Ritsuka to read him a bedtime story. You have to re-do it.

- Don't you think it's too late for a story? – Nisei pointedly glanced at a clock. It was 10.35 p.m. – How old the brat is? Five years younger than you? Eleven? Eleven-year-old brat should be sleeping by now or is he a rebellious little snot?

Seimei eyes narrowed. He slapped his fighter hard before the other had time to notice the hand coming his way.

- Never call Ritsuka like that again – he stated icily, turning away from his fighter. He relished the sight of Nisei's cheeks flaring in anger, he could see it all in the mirror. Before he could react, though, Nisei grabbed a jug with juice from the cupboard and poured its contents on Seimei's head quick as a lightning. For one frightening second, the sacrifice was sure the jug would follow, but Nisei turned and sent it flying towards a wall. The crystal jug shattered into countless pieces.

- ¡Hijo de puta! ¡Que te den por culo! ¡Te odio, cabrón! ¡No me jodas! ¡Vete a la verga culero! – Nisei was passionately cursing Seimei to hell and back, not minding at all that the other couldn't understand him. He certainly got the main idea. The jug did little to help him calm down, so soon the mirror and an innocent glass shared its fate, all accompanied by insults thrown at Seimei.

At first, the Beloved sacrifice was scared that his fighter would attack him. His patience had probably reached its limits and who could guarantee that his warped mind would provide him the info that the one standing next to him was a person he's supposed to protect and obey before he hurt him? But when after the first shock of seeing that any fighter could actually behave like that, amusement came. Honestly, Nisei didn't seem to have a slightest intention of hurting him, apparently destroying his own kitchen was enough. And, really, he was funny like that. Before, when he'd been explaining how he'd become the most feared fighter, he'd been simply scary, with cunning eyes and dark tones resembling a predator with barely restrained strength, and now, he looked like a spoiled brat throwing a fit. He could as well be stamping his leg and yelling at his mother to buy him another ice-cream. Seimei couldn't help it and burst out laughing.

- What's so fucking funny you bastard! – Nisei kicked the remains of the glass.

- You – Seimei replied chuckling – Crazy idiot.

- How dare you hit me!

- You're my fighter, when you displease me I punish you.

- Fuck you! ¡Hijo de puta! You have no right to do it! I say a wrong thing and you fucking beat me! How fucked up is that! It's not fair no matter how you look at that! I'd never lay a hand on you, but you punch me all the time like a fucking punching bag! Who's really insane between the two of us?

- Apologise.

- Keep dreaming. How do you expect my loyalty treating me like that!

- Shut up. You've amused me, now apologise – Seimei stated flatly.

- Have you lost your mind? It's *you* who should be apologising!

- You don't tell me what to do.

- And I don't take orders from a brat with ears – Nisei laughed in his face darkly. Seimei lunged at him, only to crash into the table. Nisei had stepped aside.

- Really, *Master*, are you a masochist or what? You seem to take delight in hurting yourself – Seimei heard a sarcastic comment in a liquid voice.

- It's not even close to the pleasure that gives me hurting you – Seimei turned abruptly, caught Nisei by his long hair, tugging it until the pain became unbearable for the fighter and pushed him on his knees at Seimei's feet. He then forced Nisei's head up, so he could look into his eyes and slapped him so hard that his own hand ached from it. Tears welled in Nisei's eyes as a scarlet welt appeared on his cheek. He could feel the coppery blood in his mouth from his broken lip.

When he was still dazed from the blow, Seimei's kneed him in the stomach, causing him to crash to the floor. He coughed, spitting blood and wondering if it was coming from his lip or somewhere else...

Finally, Seimei forced him to the kneeling position and to look up with a hand tilting Nisei's chin.

- Your behaviour is unacceptable. You should get that stupid notion of being anything other than my dog out of your head. You. Are. Nothing. Without. Me – Seimei spat on his fighter's face. Nisei felt the saliva slowly slipping down his cheek.

Seimei painfully dragged Nisei to the table and threw him onto it, making him hit the corner with his abdomen. He fished for his pocket knife and put the fighter's right hand flat on the table. Nisei blinked, trying to get his vision into focus and when he did notice the knife, he started to struggle, pupils wide with fear.

- That's right, fear me – Seimei whispered into his ear – Fear your Master, dog. You are nothing without me. You can do nothing without me – he slowly sliced the name, tracing each of the letters with his blade, making Nisei cry and duck in pain. When he was finishing with the 'D', he had to support his fighter's weight so he wouldn't fall down. Then he let him go.

Nisei was still sobbing on the floor when Seimei finished cleaning the knife. He wrinkled his nose with disgust as he stood above his fighter.

- Get up, you worthless idiot.

Nisei hoisted himself up, head ducked, then slowly began to raise his face, black hair obscuring his pale features. He locked his dark eyes with Seimei's amethyst ones, feral grin spreading. With a speed only a fighter could possess, he jumped at his sacrifice, turned him around so Seimei was with his back touching the table and gently, but with a barely contained strength, pushed him onto it, straddling his waist, never breaking the eye contact.

Seimei didn't seem to be afraid, or surprised, matching the half-crazed gaze with his fierce one. He felt more than saw Nisei taking the knife from his right hand and reaching for his left one. In slow motion, the fighter brought it to his face, leaning into it like a cat, kissing the knuckles, delicately tracing the letters with his tongue. Noticing Seimei's distaste at his actions he laughed, a dark, scary sound and lowered the hand to his thigh.

- Te amo, mi Amado – he whispered hoarsely, rubbing himself against Seimei's torso – Te necesito en mi vida, ya, es la verdad, pero me necesitas en la tuya también... – his long hair was caressing Seimei's face, hot breath mingling with his own. It was like a trance Aoyagi couldn't stop, even though at the back of his mind he knew it was breaking every rule he'd ever established with his fighters – Eres muy bello, muy precioso, tan bello como una flor... Te quiero...

Nisei once again brought Seimei's hand up and made a small slice on it with the knife, quickly latching his lips onto it, lapping at the blood that appeared.

- It is the truth I am nothing without you. But you are nothing without me too – he crushed his bloodied mouth with Seimei's, clouding his sacrifice's mind with a desire he'd never experienced before – Together we are Beloved. Only together, one soul in two bodies... – he kissed down Seimei's throat, neck, smearing him with blood. The sacrifice shuddered with the passion they both shared, bodies rubbing together, mouths hungrily seeking each other's flesh.

- You must have been sent to me by the devil himself – Seimei chuckled, eyeing his fighter intensely, admiring how the moonlight seeping through the window illuminated Nisei's pale body, a curtain of his black hair, bloodied lips and chin, eyes clear with madness...

- You're my devil, the only one that exists for me... I'll make you proud – Nisei laced their name-hands together.

- You'll stay with me till the end – it wasn't a question.

- Till the end and longer. Te amo, Amado miyo.

xxx

A/N That's my second Loveless fanfic ever so I'm well aware the characters may seem a little OOC, though, honestly, I can't imagine Nisei being only a psychopathic killer, I see him as a generally unstable person mostly.


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